“My God!” he said again. " "Loved me! You!" "I loved you," continued Jonathan, "and struck by your appearance, which seemed above your station, inquired your history, and found you had been stolen by a gipsy in Lancashire. She did not hear his approach, but continued her occupation without raising her head. Mrs. ‘Not entirely English then. It was his purpose to complete four or five stories before he sent any away. It was a copy of the pencil sketch taken of him nine years ago by Winifred, and awakened a thousand tender recollections. Her normally shiny hair was 143 stringy and flat. She began to read, and presently she entered another world, and remained in it for two hours. " "Here you have it, my dear," returned the hawker. There is no Heaven for your mother.
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